


Amor Vincit Omnia

by EtherealWalker



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Potential OOCness, Sensitive subject matters, Sexual Content, Smut, spoilers for the game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3304382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealWalker/pseuds/EtherealWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Trikey one-shots, ranging in subject matter and length. Contains fluff and angst and everything in-between. </p><p>Work(s)-in-progress; tags will be added/updated when appropriate. </p><p>Also things have gotten busy for me lately, so I pretty much update whenever I'm able to write. No worries; this has not been abandoned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unlikely Bedmates

**Author's Note:**

> This short and simple one-shot was the first I ever wrote for the pairing. It was around the time I was heavily getting into Trikey and I wanted to write something that involved them, even if it wasn't much.
> 
> http://etherealwalker.tumblr.com/

He should have been out of bed. They had an important heist to pull off that day with limited time and resources to do it; however, laziness was welcoming.

And honestly, why should he even feel motivated anymore? Supposedly his kids hated his guts and his wife cared more about some fruity yoga instructor than him.

“Fuck this healthy shit!” a course voice with a distinctive Canadian accent drifted up from downstairs.

Michael groaned, about to yell a retort when his phone on the bedside table buzzed.

‘Yo, what time is this shit going down again?’ Franklin’s text read.

‘Around 2. T and I are picking up the guns at 1. You got the getaway car?’ Michael texted back.

After about a minute Franklin replied, ‘All taken care of. See you then, Mike.’

Michael backed out of the messages and noticed the phone’s clock read eleven in the morning. At least they had another couple hours to get ready. He then heard intentionally heavy footsteps walking towards the bedroom and braced himself.

“Sleeping beauty up yet?” Trevor mocked as he appeared in the doorway holding a banana.

“Why am I not surprised?” Michael queried.  

“Not my fault you don’t got anything decent to eat in this house," Trevor berated. 

“Franklin just texted me. He’s got the getaway vehicle under control so that just leaves us to get the weapons.”

“Yeah, well, we got another two hours.” Trevor flopped down on the bed, making it creak in complaint.

“Amanda usually bought the groceries, by the way.” Michael wasn't sure why he felt the need to address that.

Trevor just waved his hand in dismissal as he ate the banana. After he was done he frowned. “It doesn't hold the same flavor as your dick. Disappointing.”

“Christ,” Michael sighed, throwing the covers off as he made to get out of the bed.

Trevor’s rough hand stopped him. “Hold up. Where you rollin’ off to?”  

“I know we have another two hours but we should think about getting ready.”

“Relax, we've got time. Come back to bed with your ol’ pal Trevor.”

“You’re a jackass,” Michael complained as Trevor wrapped both arms around his torso to pull him in.

“It’s why you like me, Mikey.” He grinned as he pressed his right cheek against Michael’s warm upper back. “It’s also why you begged for more last night.”

“Listen, Amanda and I are trying to patch things up and –”

“I get that. Really, I do. But she’s not here right now, is she?”

“No.”

“Could she possibly be off sleeping with someone else as well?”

Michael thought about it for a few seconds. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah you do.” Trevor released his hold on Michael so that he could force the other man to turn and meet his gaze. “So you’re telling me this was a one-time thing?”

Michael studied Trevor carefully. He seemed assured, almost cocky, as if he knew Michael was lying through his teeth.

Last night was amazing and Michael couldn't deny that. He and Amanda had some pretty great times as well but right now all Michael could think about and focus on was Trevor.

As if reading his thoughts, Trevor leaned forward to whisper in Michael’s ear, “Didn't think so, cupcake.”

And maybe, just maybe, Michael didn't protest when Trevor started planting rough kisses all over his body before pounding him into the mattress for the second time in a twenty-four hour period.

They’d get around to picking those guns up eventually. 


	2. Phoned to Boned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think it’s important to point out that when I wrote some of these one-shots I had no intention of posting them. This is one of the ones I believed would never “see the light of day,” as they say. Of course the concept of not sharing Trikey fic with fellow fans seemed silly so I went and revamped this one quite a bit to make it worthy of posting. I added more detail, took some things out, changed wording, etc. But the main idea has remained the same. Also this was the first sexually explicit Trikey fic I wrote, so even though I will warn for this in the tags I’ll just restate that here. 
> 
> This takes place during the Paleto Bay heist. My timeline is: the day before the heist is when the military convoy is seized. The next day is when the actual heist takes place. That’s how I played it out in my game, anyway, so that’s the format this fic follows.
> 
> http://etherealwalker.tumblr.com/

“Alright, alright. We’ll work on it.”

Michael sighed as he sat down on the beaten couch in Trevor’s trailer.  “I get it, Lester. Trevor is out right now scouting the area until he can find a convoy. I understand that we can’t do anything major until tomorrow. We’ll stick to the plan.” After a few more seconds Michael nodded. “Got it. I’ll check in on Trevor.”

No sooner had Michael gotten off the phone with Lester when he received a distinctive botched-grammar text. ‘This is takin fuckin 4ever kep me entertained pork chop’

Michael frowned as he texted back, ‘T what the fuck? Where’s the convoy?’

‘Found spot it makes rounds by but hz not shown yt. caL me’

Michael rubbed a hand over his face as he dared to make the call.

By the second ring Trevor was on the line. “There’s my ass-kisser.”

“So the truck is on its way and you’re just waiting around for it?”

“I believe that’s what my texts were implying, Mikey.” Trevor’s voice took on a solicitous undertone. “So you gonna entertain me?”

“How do you expect me to do that?”

“How do you think?”

Trevor had roped Michael into some pretty illicit shit already, but the worst of it was that he had convinced Michael he was entitled to some fun every once in a while, no strings attached. In the past couple of weeks, while laying low in Trevor’s trailer, Michael had been on the receiving end of a few (admittedly good) blowjobs and handjobs.

“Are you serious?” Michael’s voice had gone low, as if he was afraid of getting caught.

“As a heart attack. Of course, being that I’m about fifteen minutes away the phone’ll have to do.”

“Phone sex?”

“Yep.”  

Michael looked towards the door that led to Trevor’s bedroom. “That’s risky.”

“Patricia is with Ron, isn’t she?” Trevor asked before his tone became hostile. “If not I’ll have to gut him when I get back.”

“Ron and Mrs. Madrazo are at his place.” Almost without thinking Michael started walking towards the bedroom. “Have been for the past hour.”  

“No excuses, then. Help Uncle T out." 

“This is ridiculous. All because you can’t keep it in your pants for more than five minutes.”

“Look, if it helps I promise to fuck you when I get back.”

“That’s doesn’t help at all, actually.”

“For fuck’s sake, Michael.”  

“Alright, fine. Goddammit.”

Michael lay down on Trevor’s bed, taking in a deep breath before loosening the belt to his suit pants.

“Tell me what you’re doing,” Trevor requested.

“Taking off my belt,” Michael answered, throwing it to the side. “Now the pants.” After getting them down to his ankles and kicking them off, Michael slowly lay back down. 

“And?” Trevor prodded.

“That’s it.”

“Boxers?” Michael could almost see Trevor’s smirk through the phone as he asked, “Are you wearing those fruity ones with the fucking hearts on ‘em?”

“Amanda gave those to me," Michael defended. 

“Don't care, sugar. Take them off.”

Michael laid the phone on his chest and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. Once his dick was free he re-grabbed the phone. “Done.”

“You got your boy out?”

“Yes, T,” Michael muttered.

“You know I love it, Mikey. Now grab it.”

Michael obeyed, his breath hitching at the sudden contact.

“So you hard? Semi-hard?” Trevor asked. 

Michael already had a semi but he didn't want to give Trevor the satisfaction of knowing. Messing with him was always fun anyway. “Neither. Step up your game, _hipster_.”

“Call me that again and I’ll tie your motherfucking hands behind your back and fuck you dry.”

“You will? Then what?”  

“I’ll make you beg for more, rather than asking to stop, because I’m just that good.”

“Would you let me come?”

“Fuck no. That’s why your hands would be tied. I’d torture you, making you plead for release. Then at the last minute I’d flip you over, grab ahold of your dick and show you who’s in charge.” There was a sudden dead silence on the other end before Trevor exclaimed, “Oh fuck you, Michael! Who’s dirty talking who?”

“I thought you were dirty talking me.” Michael, who had started stroking himself, chuckled to cover a moan.

“You’re supposed to be getting _me_ hot and bothered!” Trevor complained. “Goddamn, selfish till the very end!”

“You got me hard,” Michael finally confessed. “I’m stroking myself now, slowly and,” he let out a soft sigh, “surely.”

Trevor hummed in appreciation. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Michael heard the shifting of material so he gathered Trevor was getting his own pants off.

“Tell me how it feels,” Trevor demanded.

“Amazing,” Michael breathed, his eyes starting to close.

“Get vocal for me, babe,” Trevor requested before evoking a moan of his own.

Michael pictured Trevor working his cock, which in turn made him speed up his handjob. “Oh fuck,” he groaned, almost embarrassed at how salacious he sounded.

“Can you hear it?” Trevor whispered.

Michael listened as Trevor supposedly drew his phone closer to his crotch; the distinctive wet sounds of his handjob were coming through loud and clear.

Michael nearly cried out from how turned on he was right now. He continued to stroke himself, ready to come.

“This is what you do to me,” Trevor muttered once he had the phone back to his mouth.  “And I hate you for it.”

Michael’s only response was a moan as he tugged at his dick, ready to spill his seed. “I’m close,” he gasped, perspiring from the lust-filled heat.

“Tell me what you want,” Trevor ordered. “What do you want me to do to you when I get home?”

“I want you to fuck me.” Michael couldn’t believe how quickly willpower was thrown out the window whenever pleasure was involved. “Lift my hips in the air and tongue my asshole like you always do. Get in there deep and, when I’m ready, give me that dick of yours and pound me until I’m screaming like a little bitch.”

Trevor let out a wanton moan. “Jesus fuck, Mike.”

“I want you to fuck me so hard that it makes even you dizzy.” Michael was ready to let go.

And so was Trevor. “Fuck, I’m there,” he growled into the phone.

Michael let out a strangled cry as he gave two strokes that initiated his climax.

On the other end of the phone, Trevor let out a harsh grunt coupled with a “Sweet _fucking_ hell.”

Michael tried to get his breathing under control long enough to ask, “That good enough for you?”

“That was fucking amazing.” There was a few seconds of silence before Trevor hissed, “Shit, convoy’s here.”

“Then get your pants on and get to it. If we miss this chance then we’ll have to try again tomorrow and we don’t have the time. Lester’s nervous enough as it is.”

“I’m on it.”

Michael sighed as Trevor hung up on him. “Fucking bastard.”

Not two hours later Michael heard the familiar sound of Trevor’s Bodhi pulling up outside the trailer. He himself was lounging on the couch, reading a magazine and drinking a beer as Patricia ironed some clothes.

The door was nearly slammed open as Trevor entered the trailer looking rather pleased with himself. “Got what we needed!” He then noticed Patricia. “What’s going on?”

“Ron supposedly had something to do,” Michael nonchalantly replied, continuing to thumb through the magazine.

“Patricia, darlin’,” Trevor cooed as he walked over to the woman. “Where is Ron?”

“He was preparing for a show,” Patricia answered.

Trevor tried to keep a calm demeanor. “Give me a second,” he said to, really, no one in particular.

Michael watched in amusement as Trevor hurried out of the trailer and took off at a jog towards Ron’s place.

Patricia looked at Michael curiously. “Has he been sniffing the gasolina again?”

Michael chuckled. “I have no idea. I wouldn't be surprised, though.”

About two minutes later Trevor reappeared, nearly out of breath. “P-Patricia. Ron, ah, needs some help cleaning up a mess.” Trevor coughed harshly, spitting once before stepping into the trailer. “It, uh, might take a while.”

Patricia turned the iron off as she made a disapproving clicking sound with her tongue. “You boys and your messes.”

When she passed Trevor the man took her hand to stop her, kissing it once before flashing her a winning smile. “You’re a doll, you know that?”

“Always a charmer, Trevor.” Patricia smiled before continuing over to Ron’s.

Michael had to refrain from snorting at the “charmer” comment. He set the magazine he was reading aside and watched as Trevor closed the door and locked it.

“Fucking Ron. I swear one of these days I’m gonna cut off his dick and shove it down his throat. Or maybe I’ll mail it to his ex-wife. Sure she'd appreciate that.”

“Getting the convoy went off without a hitch, then?” Michael asked. 

Trevor let out a sigh as he turned around. “Couple of casualties, but nothing major.”  

“Fair enough.” Michael stood up. “Then tomorrow’s the big day. We better get some sleep."  

“Woah there.” Trevor’s dark look managed to send a slight chill through Michael. “I didn't just get rid of that beautiful woman for nothing. You and I have unfinished business." 

“Really, Trevor?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“What makes you think I want to?”

“Is your memory so far gone that you can't recall what happened earlier, porkchop? You can’t claim impotence in your old age, Mikey. Unless you faked that orgasm.”

Michael felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment as his arms unfolded and fell to his sides. “That wasn't fake." 

Trevor smirked. “I already knew that.” He shifted his weight to his right leg. “Come here.”

Michael knew this was a bad idea; after all, they should be trying to focus on what was important, which was the heist. But his legs had a different agenda as they slowly moved towards Trevor.

“Why are you so demanding?” Michael asked once he was within reasonable distance.

“Why are you such a cock tease?” Trevor countered before grabbing Michael by his torso, turning him around and slamming him into the kitchen counter. 

“Fucking easy, T!” Michael winced.

“Quit whining,” Trevor ordered. “Sit up on the counter.”

Michael narrowed his eyes but nevertheless did as he was told. “Don’t do anything funny.”

“Who do you take me for?”

“You shouldn't be asking me that. I could give you a whole fucking list.”

“Not interested.” Trevor grabbed Michael’s pants and started pulling them off.

Michael grabbed onto the edge of the counter so as not to fall off. “Don’t rip them.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, crying over your fucking clothes now?” Trevor chucked the pants behind him. “If it means that much to you I’ll take you shopping sometime. How does that sound, _Michelle_?”

“Fuck you.”

“In due time, precious.” Trevor grinned at Michael’s navy blue boxers. “Good, thought I was gonna be blinded by those fucking fruity hearts again.”

“They’re comfortable, alright?” Michael defended as Trevor pulled down his boxers. “Doesn't matter what the fuck’s on them.”

“It matters to the person who’s gotta seem them before putting your dick in their mouth,” Trevor argued. “It’s a cockblock.”

“No such thing for you,” Michael pointed out. “After all, you’ll screw anything with a hole.”

“But not all holes are as enjoyable as yours,” Trevor countered with a lewd grin.

“Why do you gotta be so – oh fuck,” Michael breathed, Trevor’s mouth on his cock in an instant.

“That’s one way to shut you up,” Trevor jabbed after he took a long lick. He kissed the head before taking nearly all of Michael’s length into his mouth.

Michael let out a pleased sigh as Trevor slowly ran his mouth up and down the length of his shaft; he couldn't deny that moments like this were overwhelmingly nice.

Trevor could perform oral sex like nobody’s business. Knowing of his past and his propensity to humiliate men, this did not surprise Michael. Clearly Trevor had plenty of opportunities to practice. Or maybe he was just a natural.

Michael’s hands were gripping the edge of the countertop. He watched Trevor’s head between his thighs move slowly back and forth; it was a sight both obscene and alluring at the same time.

It was when Trevor started to hum that Michael seemed to be kicked into overdrive. 

“Oh shit, don’t stop,” Michael pleaded, eyes closed as he placed one hand behind Trevor’s head and grabbed what hair was there.

Trevor gave a low growl as he started to go faster, deep throating Michael like it was nothing.

“Fuck, f-fuck,” Michael whispered over and over, his mantra becoming more unhinged as he neared his release.

Trevor was relentless, his tongue moving expertly as Michael's cock swelled in his mouth.

“Gotta come,” Michael warned, although he learned a while back that Trevor gave no shits about semen in his mouth.

A couple more hard sucks did the job. Michael let out a languid moan, the result of his climax discharging straight into Trevor’s mouth. 

“Holy fucking god,” Michael breathed. Trevor stood up and gave Michael a harsh kiss, forcing his lips open and passing some semen into his mouth. Michael tried to push him away but he still felt like jelly from the post-orgasm bliss. 

“How’s that?” Trevor asked with a smirk.

“Fucking dick,” Michael muttered, wiping his mouth.

“And yours tastes lovely,” Trevor remarked as he licked Michael’s lips before pressing a firm kiss against them.

“I suppose you want the favor returned?” Michael asked after Trevor stepped back.

“Of course, sugar-tits.”

Things were a blur to Michael as Trevor hauled him into the bedroom. Before he knew what was happening, he was on Trevor’s bed and in the same position he had envisioned himself in earlier that day when they were dirty talking over the phone: ass in the air as Trevor tongue-fucked him.

“I swear to fuck every part of you tastes good,” Trevor commented unabashedly. “What’s your secret?”

Michael rolled his eyes as he laid his head on a pillow, looking to the side. “No secret. You’re just crazy.”

“I must be if I’m fucking a pig.”

“Don’t even start that shit, T.”

“Hush.” Trevor situated himself behind Michael, squeezing his hips appreciatively. “I believe this is the part where I make you _squeal_.”

“Enough with the fat jokes,” Michael complained.

“You know you love them,” Trevor accused.

Michael was about to retort when he felt Trevor push inside of him. “F-fuck." 

“That’s it,” Trevor murmured, pulling out a bit before pushing in assuredly.

Michael felt a bit of discomfort at first but it soon dissipated into pleasure. Trevor always seemed to know just the right angles and speed to use. 

“F-feels g-good,” Michael barely managed to say, always becoming incoherent when getting fucked by Trevor. He would only admit to himself that the sex was ever that good.

“I agree, cupcake,” Trevor approved, picking up speed. “Now touch yourself.”

“Jesus H.,” Michael muttered, closing his eyes as he grabbed his erection and started pumping.

Trevor grunted with nearly every thrust, still clutching onto Michael’s hips with his rough hands. “That’s it, baby. Uncle T’s satisfied…oh fuuuuck.”

“Shit,” Michael rasped.

“Scream for me, Michael.”

As Michael started to reach his climax he did just that. “Keep going, T. Shit. Fuck.” And when that moment came for him to let go like so many times before when in the hands (or mouth) of his unstable best friend, he yelled, “F-fuck, Trevor!”

Trevor growled, relentlessly pounding away until he let out a salacious moan, signaling his climax.

Michael’s own drawn out moan mingled with Trevor’s. He collapsed forward, his heart pounding furiously.

“Fucking amazing,” Trevor praised as he pulled out and got up, grabbing a towel that was lying on the bedside table and using it to clean himself before throwing it over to Michael. “Here.”

Michael blinked as the towel landed next to him on the bed. He grabbed it and started cleaning his front. “I need a less messy one for the back.”

Trevor rolled his eyes. “Nothing wrong with using the same towel, _princess_.”

Michael frowned, chucking the towel near Trevor. “Forget it. Takin’ a shower.”

“Don’t let me stop you.” Trevor flopped down on the bed, placing his hands behind his head. Michael felt his heart do a funny flip over how content the man looked; at the same time, it unsettled him.

He knew he could have Trevor and obviously Trevor would be more than willing to have him. But they lost their chance. Michael had a wife and kids and he couldn't just give that up.

He tried to lose these thoughts as the warm water rushed over his tired body but his mind refused to let up.

Once done showering, Michael walked back into Trevor’s bedroom wearing sweatpants that Trevor had let him borrow along with a white tank top.  

Trevor, still naked as the day he was born (or Wednesday of last week), opened his eyes once he heard Michael walk back in. “You look good in my clothes,” he praised.

“I bet you’d look good in your clothes too,” Michael jabbed.

“I called Ron. Patricia’s gonna stay over there for tonight. Used the heist tomorrow as an excuse.” After noticing Michael’s expression Trevor asked, “Something on your mind?”

“You realize, once this is all over, that this can’t happen anymore?”

“You are a gigantic buzzkill, you know that? I’m not fucking stupid. I realize once you get your family back you’ll become ‘daddy dearest’ again and that’ll be the end of it.”

“Don’t, Trevor.” Michael felt disappointment more than anger.

Trevor scowled. “All I know is I’m pretty fucking sure I’ve been the best lay you've had in years so I wouldn't be fucking complaining about it.”

Michael looked down at his folded arms. “I'm not complaining, I’m just trying to keep a level head here. This shouldn't have happened. Hell, the past couple of weeks shouldn't have happened.”

There was dead silence. Michael could feel Trevor’s eyes boring into him. When he eventually met the man’s gaze again, Michael was not at all surprised to find himself on the receiving end of a vicious glare.

“You _regret_ this?”

“I – no. Fuck. I think the problem is I don’t.”

“Ever the martyr. That shtick is getting fucking annoying.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. You don’t have what I have.”

“I have you, you prick!”

“That’s sad.”

Trevor now stood up, incensed. “Oh, fuck you, Michael!”

Michael raised his hands as a show of pacifism. “Not like that! It’s sad because I’m such a fuck-up. You know that more than anyone; you've seen what I’ve become.”

“And that is?”

“A glorified mess.”

Trevor studied Michael for a few seconds. “True. But you’re _my_ glorified mess.”

“Shit, T. What has happened, what’s been happening, what will happen…it’s too fucking complicated.”

“So take it one day at a time, porkchop." Trevor snorted. "You think too fucking much.”

“I know I do,” Michael acknowledged.

“I get you need your family and all that shit. But you know what? I need you too. So don’t fucking forget about me.” Trevor narrowed his eyes. “Again.”  

“I never forgot about you, Trevor. As much as I wanted to sometimes.”

“Always in your thoughts, huh? I tend to have that effect on people.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Now shut up and come to bed so we can cuddle like a couple of fruits.”

“You gonna put on some clothes?”

“Fuck no.”  

“Figures.”

Several thoughts ran through Michael’s head as he tried in vain to fall asleep. At the forefront he thought about Amanda and the kids, the Paleto Bay heist they were supposed to pull off tomorrow, and what had transpired between him and Trevor in recent weeks.  

After some time Michael finally forced his mind to quiet down. He leaned forward and placed his cheek against Trevor’s neck from behind, listening to his soft snores.

“For what it’s worth I need you too,” Michael muttered, not having the courage to tell Trevor when he was conscious. “I don’t know how long this will last but I’ll enjoy it while I can.” He kissed Trevor’s shoulder before closing his eyes and willing himself to fall asleep.

Trevor was a distraction for Michael. He was also a support system in his own crazy, psychotic way. Wherever Trevor went, danger followed. And now, whether he liked it or not, so did Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do my fellow writers ever feel embarrassment from writing and then posting sexually explicit scenes? I kinda do, but at the same time some of my favorite Trikey fics are sexually explicit and honestly I'm rather happy with how this one turned out. So really, it's all good.  
> Also, apologies for the title to this chapter. I thought it made sense, ha.


	3. My Fair Hostage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up that there is an original character in this one. I’m rather happy with how this turned out. It actually went through two major changes before becoming what it is now.

“You better hurry up, Mikey. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Did you find a getaway car?”

Trevor glanced around his surroundings, one hand gripping the steering wheel of the stolen vehicle while the other held his phone. “Affirmative. I’m parked right across the street from the bank.”

“I’ll be there momentarily. Frank already left about two minutes ago with the money.”

“Alright.”

Trevor watched and waited for Michael to appear. Once he saw him, he immediately put the car into drive and raced over.  

“Cops are about ready to show up and swarm the place,” Michael informed as he got into the passenger’s side. “We need to find somewhere to lay low.”

“Already figured that, porkchop.”

Michael looked out the window as Trevor drove off. “That actually went better than expected.”

“Frank’s gonna be okay?” Trevor inquired, weaving in and out of traffic best he could.

“He took off on his bike and was supposedly going to meet Lamar somewhere to get a ride.” Michael checked his phone. “Well, there you go. He just texted me that he made it.”

“Let him know we’re going to hide out for a while and he should do the same.” Trevor kept his eyes peeled for cop cars.  

“Can you guys drop me off before you do?”

Trevor and Michael froze, glancing quickly at each other before Michael hurriedly looked in the backseat.

A young man wearing cargo pants and a baggy black shirt was lying down with his hands behind his head, regarding Michael almost humorously. “I mean, you can keep the car if you want.”

“Jesus H.,” Michael exclaimed, fixing Trevor with an incredulous look. “You didn't even check to see if the car you jacked had someone in it first?”

“Adrenaline was pumping, M.” Trevor narrowed his eyes as he maintained control of the vehicle on the busy streets. “And it's not my fault some punk was counting sheep in the back where I couldn't see him.”

“It’s no big.” The guy sat up, running a hand through his shaggy black hair. “I didn't say anything at first because, I admit, I was intrigued by what was happening." He grinned. "Name’s Mark.”

Michael was still in disbelief over the turn the situation had taken. “Kid, is this your car?”

“Nah.”

“Then why the fuck are you in it?” Trevor asked, glancing once at Mark in the rear view mirror before his eyes returned to the road.

“I, uh, borrowed it.” When Michael narrowed his eyes in confusion, Mark sighed and elaborated, “Okay, so I couldn't pay my rent this month and the landlord kicked me out until I could get my act together. I had to find somewhere decent to sleep.”

“The fuck? I stole an already stolen car?” Trevor complained.

“Wow, Trevor. You’re really slipping, aren't ya?” Michael rebuked.   

“Fuck off, Michael. Next time you do it.”

“So what do we do now, drop him off?” Michael spoke as if Mark wasn't there listening in.

“Problem is he knows what’s happened.” Trevor growled. “Since he’s been back there the whole fucking time he’s heard everything that’s been said.”

“I don’t really care,” Mark shrugged. “I used to hang out with some pretty shady people. This ain’t nothing new.”

“You seem unnaturally chill,” Trevor assessed suspiciously. “Yet I don’t think you’re on anything.”

“I create my own natural high,” Mark explained with a goofy grin.

They had just rounded a corner when they witnessed a couple of cop cars driving around.

Trevor slammed on the brakes. “Shit, we need to get to a hotel or something. Driving around in this _twice_ ,” he spat, “stolen vehicle isn’t going to help us.”

“Go further down and take the second right,” Michael directed. “We can stay at the Monolith.”

Mark looked between the two men as they focused on the road ahead of them. “So you guys been doing this for long?”

“Long enough,” Michael answered with a sigh.

“Running buddies for life,” Trevor remarked with a grin.

“That’s cool. I haven’t really done anything exciting. Honestly this was my first carjacking,” Mark confessed.

“Did you just recently become homeless?” Michael inquired.

“Yep. It’s hard to go to school and pay rent at the same time. You literally feel like every dollar and cent is just sucked right out of you.”

“What’re you going for?”

“A degree in engineering.”

Trevor whistled lowly. “You got the brain for that?”

“I’d like to think so,” Mark answered. “Been making decent grades so far. Just gotta keep it up. I should be done this year if things go according to plan.”

“Good for you, kid,” Michael genuinely praised. “Focus on that. Don’t screw things up for yourself. This carjacking could’ve ended badly for you if you were caught by anyone else.”

Mark nodded. “Guess I got lucky.”  

About a minute later Trevor announced, “We’re here.”

“Pull into the parking lot on the far side behind that dumpster,” Michael ordered. “We can just leave the car there.”

After the vehicle was parked and everyone exited, Mark asked, “So do I go?”

“Nope.” Trevor fixed Mark with a glare. “Don’t care how _chill_ you are, homie. I need to make sure you don’t talk.”

Mark folded his arms. “Fair enough.”

“Really, T?” Michael had walked around the car to join up with the other two. “I doubt he’s a threat.”

“It’s just for one night,” Trevor argued. "Besides, means he won’t have to sleep on the streets or something.”

Michael’s heart did a weird flip as he now understood Trevor’s true intentions for wanting to keep an eye on Mark. He almost smiled but he caught himself. 

“When you put it that way it sounds pretty nice,” Mark conceded.

“Let’s go.” Trevor started walking towards the hotel. “Cops will be out and about.”

They checked in for the night, room 613 theirs for the taking.

After settling in Michael made sure to call Franklin to check up on him as well as let him know what was going on. 

“Frank’s staying with Lamar for tonight,” he informed Trevor after hanging up. “The money’s safe, too.”

“Good.” Trevor continued to flip through channels on the TV as he lounged on the double-bed.  

“Sweet, do they really have room service?” Mark was sitting at a table in the corner of the room, thumbing through what looked like a menu.

“I believe they do.” Michael took a seat across from Mark. 

“Cool. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.” Mark's eyes continued to scan the menu, unaware of Michael's frown. 

“What about your parents, kid?” Michael asked. 

“Well, they're kinda busy. My dad’s got his business to run, which can be pretty tough to handle sometimes, and my mom is a teacher, which can be a pretty thankless job.”

“Do they even keep in touch?”

“Not really.”

“Seems a bit shitty, honestly.”  

“I don’t believe they’re being intentionally shitty,” Mark explained. “I think a lot of people don’t mean to be intentionally shitty. It just kind of happens.”

Michael smiled sadly. “Unfortunately some of us know exactly what we’re doing.” Behind him, Trevor had his arms folded, looking somewhat somber.  

“I’m not here to judge,” Mark assured, dropping the menu as he held his hands up in mock surrender.

Michael chuckled. “I know. You wanna order something?”

“Heck yeah.”

“Get me something too,” Trevor demanded.

The rest of the night went surprisingly well. Michael felt like he was back in the old days, except this time there was less stress and tension.

Mark had turned in early, thanking Michael and Trevor for letting him stay.

Michael started getting ready to call it a night as well when he noticed Trevor standing out on the hotel balcony, cigarette in hand as he looked out over the city.

“Today was weird, huh?” Michael asked as he joined Trevor, closing the balcony door behind him so that they wouldn't wake up Mark.

Trevor only grunted in response, taking another drag of his cigarette before flicking it and letting the smoke billow out of his mouth.

Michael grabbed the edge of the railing, looking down at all the cars that floated through the city streets. “So why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know what.”

“Have to keep an eye on him, Mikey. He might still squeal.”

“Cut the crap, Trevor. If that kid had any more of a positive outlook he’d be a fucking hippie.”

“Exactly. I find it hard to believe that he can keep such an upbeat attitude amidst all the shit he's going through.”

“You know, we could do that too. We just choose to be pathetic, self-loathing bastards.”

“Speak for yourself, porkchop.”

“You wanted to make sure he would be okay.” Michael changed the subject.

“He reminds me of me.” Trevor scratched the back of his neck.

“He’s the complete opposite of you,” Michael deadpanned.

“I’m talking with respect to the homelessness.” Trevor frowned. “Back then, before you came along, I was always bouncing from place to place. Nothing was ever certain or set in stone.”

“Me showing up didn’t exactly help with that,” Michael pointed out. “In fact, I probably made things worse.”

Trevor shook his head slowly. “Nah, it was different after you came into the picture. Our relationship was something constant, you know? We might’ve stayed at multiple grungy motels and rest stops but at least we knew we’d have each other’s backs.”

“I guess that’s true.” Michael leaned back from the railing. “Oh, I told Franklin when he comes to pick us up tomorrow to bring some cash for Mark.”

“How much?”

“Enough to keep him in his apartment for at least another two or three months.”

"Gives him time to figure things out, at least." Trevor turned around and walked towards the balcony door. “We’d better call it a night.”

Michael nodded and started to follow Trevor inside, hesitating when he nearly ran right into him. “What, why’d you stop?”

Trevor searched Michael’s face for a moment before grabbing the back of his head and crushing their lips together. Michael was caught off-guard at first but soon returned the kiss with just as much fervor.

After they broke apart, Trevor sighed. “Unfortunately Marky has unwittingly become a cockblock. I can’t fuck you tonight but trust that I’m taking a rain check.”

Michael chuckled. “You need to give your libido a rest anyway.”

 

\---

 

“Make it last, yeah?”

Mark smiled graciously as Trevor handed him a wad of cash. “You got it.”  He pocketed the cash and waved to Michael and Franklin, who were standing a few feet away in front of the hotel’s main doors, before extending his hand to Trevor. “Thanks for everything. Yesterday was honestly the most fun I’ve had in a while. You guys are pretty awesome.”

Trevor regarded Mark’s hand for a few seconds before using his left arm to wrap it around Mark’s neck, drawing him into a nearly suffocating hug-slash-headlock. “Stay in school and don’t steal shit anymore.”

Mark coughed harshly, grateful when Trevor let him go. “G-geez, I, okay, I won’t.”

Trevor smirked. “Good. Now get the fuck out of here.”

Mark waved one last time to everyone before hurrying over to the taxi that was waiting to take him back to his apartment.

Once the taxi was gone from sight, Trevor turned around and rejoined his two comrades. “He’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, he will,” Michael agreed as he clapped a hand on Franklin’s shoulder. “What do you think, Frank?”

“I think you two need to stop adopting homies.”

Michael laughed as Trevor grinned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Mark. More than I thought I would. 
> 
> This originally started out as Trevor kidnapping some young punk who didn't make good on a drug deal. Then it turned into them kidnapping some hapless dude who saw the robbery so that he wouldn't squeal. Then Mark happened, and I really liked writing him so I went with that and this was the result. It’s amazing to me sometimes how you can start out with an idea and have it go through so many changes that it becomes completely different from what you started with.


	4. Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incoming fluff.

“Yes, Mandy. I got her the good snacks.” Michael rolled his eyes and refrained from sighing as he grabbed a random can of vegetables off of the shelf, giving him something to look at while his wife continued to chatter over the phone. “Yes, hon. The sliced apples too. Uh-huh.”

At the end of the aisle, Trevor had his arms folded on top of a shopping cart, hunched over as he tried to fix the beaded bracelet that had gotten twisted up on four-year-old Tracey’s wrist.

Michael placed the vegetable can back and started to walk down the aisle. “So the appointment went well?” After a few seconds he smiled. “That’s good.”  

“Don’t pull too hard, princess,” Trevor warned as Tracey attempted to help him readjust the bracelet. “This thing was a bitch to make. Don’t need it breaking on us.”

Michael, who had just arrived back at the cart, hit Trevor in the shoulder and gave him a disapproving look. “Alright, I’ll see you back at the house.” He then hung up the phone and berated, “Don’t use that kind of language in front of my girl, T.”

“Better me than somebody else.” Trevor let go of the fixed bracelet and stood up straight. “So how’s James?”

“Amanda said the appointment went well, thank god. It must have just been a twenty-four hour bug or something.” Michael ruffled Tracey’s golden hair before leaning in and kissing her forehead. “I think we’re just about done shopping.”

“I want out,” Tracey demanded, wiggling a little in her seat.

“We've been here about fifteen minutes,” Trevor informed. “To a kid that probably feels like hours.”

“I don’t want her running off,” Michael contested.  

“She’ll be fine. I’ll keep an eye on her.”  Trevor lifted Tracey up and set her down carefully on the ground.

“Let’s go see the toys!” Tracey excitedly grabbed Trevor’s hand with a smile.

“Amanda and I already got her something for the week,” Michael muttered to Trevor so Tracey wouldn't hear.   

Trevor scowled. “So she’s limited?” When Michael nodded he snorted. “Well, it ain’t gonna be from you anyway, porkchop. I’m allowed to get her something every once in a while too.”

“Just don’t let Amanda know,” Michael warned as he grabbed the shopping cart.

Trevor rolled his eyes. “Right, because the wifey doesn't want me anywhere near her since I’m such a bad influence.”

“Amanda’s concerns are legitimate,” Michael argued. “She doesn't know you like I do. So, since I defend you and fight to allow you around my kids, the least you could do is listen to me.”

Tracey was still clutching onto Trevor’s hand, trying fruitlessly to make him move. “Uncle Trevor!” she whined.

Trevor narrowed his eyes at Michael before changing his expression completely as he turned to Tracey. “Sorry, munchkin. Lead the way.”

Michael watched them walk off, not able to hide a grin.

Trevor had managed to surprise him. Sure, he had been pissed at first when he found out Michael had gotten Amanda pregnant. But that changed once Tracey arrived.

Now they also had James, just turned two-years-old. Michael could still remember when he first introduced Trevor to him. 

_“Can I hold him?” Trevor asked._

_Michael wordlessly handed his newborn son over, pleased when Trevor held him just the way that Michael had taught him to back when Tracey was born._

_“You gotta stop making babies, Mikey,” Trevor joked._

_“I think two’s good,” Michael conceded._

_"Yeah," Trevor murmured, looking at James with a certain fondness. "Two's good."_

Amanda had been adamant at first about Trevor not hanging around. Michael argued that the kids needed connections outside of the family too. Though Amanda still didn’t fully approve, she eventually stopped fighting Michael over the issue.

“It’ll be fine, Mandy,” Michael thought as he became next in line at the checkout lane. “I kinda wish you did know him like I do. Then you’d realize just how much he changes when he’s around the kids.”

After Michael paid for the groceries he went to track down his daughter and best friend in the toy aisle.

“We about ready to go?” Michael asked once he found them, shopping cart full of now bagged groceries.

Trevor stood in the middle of the aisle, watching Tracey scurry about. “I believe so,” he answered.

“Daddy!” Tracey hurried over to Trevor and took the tiara that he had been holding onto. “Uncle Trevor’s getting me this!” She then ran over to a section of the aisle and grabbed a pink star wand. “And this!”

Trevor looked over at Michael. “I told her to pick out two things. Seems she knows how to accessorize already.”

“I’m gonna be a princess!” Tracey informed excitedly.

“You already are one,” Trevor corrected as he took the wand and tiara from Tracey. “You’re just having to dress the part now. But I got you covered.”

Tracey smiled. “Thank you, Uncle Trevor.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Trevor nodded at Michael. “Go ahead and take her to the car. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Michael smiled. Seeing the interaction between Trevor and Tracey reminded him of why he refused to just cut Trevor out of his and the kids’ lives. "Thank you. Really, I mean it." 

Trevor grinned as he tapped Michael on the nose with the tip of the toy wand. “No problem, cupcake.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The GTA Wiki says that Tracey was born in 1991 and Jimmy was born in 1993. Originally I was going to have Tracey be the only child born to Michael and Amanda in this one-shot, but I didn’t want to break canon too badly so I included Jimmy as well. I used “James” instead of “Jimmy” here because, well, that is his actual name. I can’t remember if the game brings this up or if I’m making my own headcanon canon (oh dear), but I believe that later on, when he got older, James wanted to be called Jimmy. So that’s what sticks. 
> 
> I like the idea of Trevor being involved in Tracey’s life when she’s a young child. I get the impression that’s what it was like in the actual game, too.


	5. Taking It Slow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this can actually be a “hot topic” in some fandoms, I just want to be clear that I support both Michael and Trevor topping. Though I tend to go for Trevor topping more, I also like the thought of Michael doing so as well. 
> 
> Also this turned out to be sappy, which wasn't what I was originally going for. So, apologies. Unless you like it, then yay!

“Come on, baby. Let go. Come for me. Come all - goddammit, Michael!”

Michael frowned in confusion as an annoyed Trevor hovered over him. “What?”

“I’m trying to get you to blow your load but it’s _clearly_ not working!” Trevor complained. “Shit, please don’t tell me you've hit that point in your life where impotence is a problem.”

Michael scowled. “Who you calling impotent? We’re nearly the same age, Trevor!”

“And yet I can keep going like a jackrabbit in heat!”

“That’s because you’re sex-crazed and you want to fuck like it’s going out of style! Can’t you slow it down?”

Trevor rocked into Michael for emphasis as he growled, “I’ve waited nearly ten… _fucking_ years…to have you…like this!”

"I know, that’s my point.” Michael squeezed Trevor’s shoulders softly.

Trevor stopped moving. “Your point?”  

“I’ve been waiting for this too, and I guess I just want to savor it more.” When Trevor rolled his eyes Michael hurried, “Don’t get me wrong. A quick, rough fuck is nice too.”

“But you want to make love,” Trevor mocked.

Michael seemed almost embarrassed as he murmured, “Something like that.”

Trevor sighed as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Michael’s temple. “My sentimentality has rubbed off on you, Mikey.”

“You? Sentimental?” Michael grinned. “Come on, T.”

“I _am_ sentimental,” Trevor argued.

“I know, I was just kidding.”

“Fuck,” Trevor muttered. “I’m not good at this. You wanna take control this time?”

Michael blinked. “Uh, yeah, I guess I can.”

“Great.” Trevor pulled out of Michael quickly and laid down on his back, arms outstretched. “Come get me, then.”

Michael snorted. “Very romantic, T.”

“You’re the one that wants to make this all lovey-dovey,” Trevor accused.

As expected, Michael went at a much slower pace than Trevor, and at first it seemed like Trevor was going to give him hell for it.

But Michael was also planting soft kisses on Trevor’s chest, neck, and face, and Trevor found himself mesmerized by the actions.

At some point, Michael’s lips ghosted over Trevor’s before he pressed them to the scar that he still didn't know the story behind. A knife fight seemed likely, but with Trevor one never knew.

“Shit, Mikey,” Trevor whispered, almost adoringly. “I'm already gonna come." 

“Hold onto me, babe,” Michael softly ordered.

Trevor wrapped his arms around Michael, moans low and drawn out as Michael continued to take him, still pressing warm kisses against Trevor’s naked skin.

“Oh fuck, I love you,” Trevor whispered, the feeling of Michael’s lips on his body helping to send him over the edge. “I love you, I love you, you fat fuck, I fucking love – shit.”  

Michael knew Trevor was about to reach his climax. He leaned in and whispered, “I love you too.”

It was Trevor’s undoing, in more ways than one; those simple words, rarely spoken but always staggering when Michael delivered them. 

Trevor pressed his face into Michael’s shoulder to try and muffle his cry, his body trembling from the force of his climax.

Michael came a few seconds afterwards, nearly collapsing from the strength of his orgasm.

It was an intensity that neither had experienced in quite a long time. 

“Goddamn,” Trevor breathed as Michael slowly pulled out of him. “You weren't fucking kidding, sugar-tits.”

Michael smiled. “Nice, huh?”

“Perfect,” Trevor corrected as he grabbed Michael’s face and gave him an affectionate kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had this image in my head of Trevor getting annoyed at Michael because he wouldn't “perform” in bed. I started with that and let the rest fall into place. 
> 
> I find the hardest thing to do when writing is figuring out how to start and end a story. I can deal with the in-between just fine (well, for the most part).


	6. Intellectual Hobby

He had been reading for the majority of the night and, surprisingly enough, enjoying himself. Granted it was a far cry from drinking whiskey, smoking a cigarette, and watching old film noire movies.

But a certain someone had insisted that other hobbies should take precedence for a while. Of course, one of those hobbies was fucking, but Michael didn’t find that to be entirely unpleasant. For the most part. 

The couch had been his comfortable friend for the past three hours as he slowly turned pages, eyes scanning words and sentences, all forming a makeshift movie in his head.

Around eleven-thirty there was a loud bang as the front door was opened and closed roughly. “Where are ya, Mikey?”

He knew that Trevor had been out having a grand ol’ time involving alcohol and maybe, possibly, a half-naked woman or two.

“The strip club was hoppin’ tonight,” Trevor informed, confirming Michael’s suspicions as he stumbled into the living room. “Woah there, you readin’?”

“You suggested I take up other hobbies for a while,” Michael answered. “I used to read quite a bit back in the day. Figured I’d start up again.”

“Amazing.” Trevor did not ask for permission as he stumbled over and got on top of Michael, laying down and putting his head on his chest. “So goddamn proud of you.”

Michael felt a bit of annoyance as now he had to raise the book higher to clear Trevor’s balding head. “I'm sure you are. Get some sleep, you drunk.”

“Your body’s nice,” Trevor murmured. “It’s all soft and shit." 

“Sleep, T.”

After a while Michael could feel and hear Trevor taking deep breaths.

He was feeling tired as well but there were only two chapters left and he was determined to finish.

In the wee hours of the morning Michael had read the last sentence and closed the book, satisfied. After laying it on the floor (since he could not reach the coffee table), he kissed Trevor on the top of his head before placing his arms around him.  

"I wonder what would happen if they turned our history together into a book." Michael chuckled softly. "I don't know whether it'd fall under the action-adventure, tragedy, or horror category. Maybe all three." He hummed. "Well, and a bit of romance too, huh?" 

Trevor shifted a little, letting out a contented sigh. 

Michael's eyes slowly closed. He fell asleep thinking about what book he should read next. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted Trevor and Michael sleeping on a couch (well, Trevor sleeping on Michael who was on a couch). So I made it happen. That’s about it.


	7. Bullet

It was turning out to be one hell of a firefight.

Michael wasn’t sure where Franklin or Trevor ended up; all he knew was that he was currently running and ducking through hallways, trying to dodge the haze of bullets that the cops were unleashing at a near-blinding speed.

“Stop or we will continue to shoot!” a cop warned, his voice trying to supersede the sounds of gunfire.  

“Fuck you,” was the only phrase that echoed in Michael’s head as he continued to hurry along. All he had on him was a combat pistol and a Micro SMG, neither of which he planned on using unless absolutely necessary. 

Once outside of the bank, Michael hurried across the street and looked for a getaway vehicle. He silently cursed when he didn’t see one.

“Shouldn’t have let Trevor handle that task,” Michael thought. Those kinds of things were best left up to Franklin.

He continued down the sidewalk, guns hidden as he tried to figure out where to go.

“Shit.” Michael watched as a couple of cop cars turned the corner.

He didn’t run; that would seem too suspicious. Instead he continued to walk, eventually blending in with a crowd that was about a street away from the bank.

Eventually he came upon a couple of buildings that were connected by a dark alleyway. When he was certain no one was watching, Michael ducked into the alleyway and traveled a little ways down until he found a wooden crate to sit on.

Sirens were blaring and cops could be heard using loudspeakers as they tried to get people to clear out and the criminals to “show themselves.”

Michael hoped that Trevor and Franklin got away. He was already on edge well before the robbery even took place.

As with nearly every job they pulled, Michael and Trevor had butted heads over the best course of action to use. Franklin, once again, had been the peacemaker, settling on something that both men could agree to.

 _“You better not mess this up,”_ Michael had warned Trevor when they were traveling to the bank that was to be their hit.

 _“You don’t have to tell me that, sugar-tits,”_ Trevor argued. _“I know what I’m doing.”_

 _“I hope so. That’s why you’re still here.”_ Michael knew he shouldn't have spoken the words as soon as he saw the defeated look that flashed across Trevor’s face.

It was only for an instant, however, as anger immediately took over. _“Good to have you back too, friend,”_ Trevor snarled.

Michael replayed the conversation in his head and let out a deep sigh as he looked towards the graying sky. He really needed to choose his words more carefully.

Trevor was like a ticking time bomb, and even though Michael was one of the only people that knew how to successfully defuse him, unfortunately he was also one of the only people that knew how to completely set him off.

Double-edged swords were a bitch.

Michael attributed his conflicting emotions to the fact that he still couldn't quite believe that Trevor was back in his life. He also couldn't get over the fact that his family was with him again, back at home, safe and sound.

On top of all that, he found it difficult to retire like he wanted. Franklin and Trevor were still willing to pull jobs and, of course, they would ask Michael if he was in. Michael would protest at first but Trevor would inevitably say something that would goad Michael into jumping right back into the lifestyle.

After about fifteen minutes had passed, Michael could not hear the sounds of turmoil as prominently anymore. Being that he was a good ways from the bank, he deemed it fairly safe to slip out of the alleyway and head back home.

As he exited, he turned to his left and froze.

A masked figure stood intimidatingly, their M16 pointed straight at Michael.

Michael's heart started to beat rapidly. If he tried to go for either of his guns there was no doubt in his mind that this person would shoot him on sight.

He didn’t know if this was an undercover cop or what, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was staring down the barrel of a gun and he needed to think fast.

Michael failed to recognize the person’s stance; he failed to notice when they tensed a bit before lowering their gun ever so slightly.

Michael didn't think he could talk his way out of this one. 

After a few seconds the person lowered their gun completely.

Michael’s shoulders relaxed slightly; however, his stance was still that of a man ready to flee if necessary. 

The unknown figure finally took off their mask, and Michael’s heart nearly dropped into his stomach.

“Jesus H.,” Michael whispered. He felt some relief at seeing Trevor but at the same time he was still on the defensive. After the words they exchanged earlier, Michael didn’t know if Trevor still had it in him to put a bullet between his eyes.

Trevor gave Michael a look that was full of conflicting emotions. When he finally settled on one, it was that of disappointment. “Ain’t gonna kill you, Mikey.”

Michael felt like he had been hit by a freight train. Memories of Ludendorff flashed through his mind.

_“Ain’t gonna leave you, Mikey!”_

_“Go!”_

But Trevor never truly went; Trevor was always there, within reach. And now that he was back, he had no intention of leaving Michael again.

They both felt guilt but for completely different reasons. Michael knew that Trevor’s reasons were more sincere than his.

“Why won’t you do it, huh?” Michael asked, voice cracking slightly. “Why won’t you just fucking do it?”

The gun remained still at Trevor’s side. “Why would I shoot you?”  It was a serious question, not in any way rhetorical.

“Because of all the things that I’ve done to you,” Michael explained. “Because of everything that I put you through, making you think I was dead. And when you came back, I had every intention of betraying you again. Then I realized, too fucking late, that I didn’t want you dead either.”

Trevor shook his head slowly. “You got a family.”

“That’s not the only reason,” Michael accused.

“Yeah, well, there is that whole 'me giving a fuck about you' thing, Michael,” Trevor replied angrily. “And if you don’t believe that then you’re a dumb sack of shit.”

Trevor’s words, as usual, hit Michael hard. He walked over, wanting to punch Trevor or slap Trevor or do something, anything, to make Trevor go away.

Instead, when Michael got right up to Trevor, he wrapped his arms around his neck.

Trevor was surprised at first. After a few seconds, however, he dropped his gun completely and returned the hug.

“I’m sorry,” Michael muttered, and it was all he could say because those were the only words he knew in that moment that held meaning, not bullshit.

Michael just wanted to feel Trevor, to hold Trevor, to know that Trevor was there.

And with the way that Trevor held onto Michael just as tightly, it was clear that he wanted to make sure Michael was there as well.

They had dealt with enough fucking ghosts in their lives.

 


	8. Let Me Express My Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt goofy, and for that they may be a bit OOC in this. Sorry. 
> 
> Also, I can’t take credit for the first poem (you’ll see what I mean). Some anonymous person online said it and I just had to use it. That second poem is definitely mine, though. :->

**Trevor – Poem**

“I’ve never written a poem in my fucking life!” Trevor complained.

“Then why are you tryin’ now, dog?” Franklin sincerely questioned. “Do something else for Mike. Buy him some fucking cologne or something.”

“Nah, nigga, that’s weak,” Lamar piped up. “A poem comes from the heart. It’s meaningful. Better than some nasty-ass scent that you spray on your skin.”

Trevor nodded as he poked at the few fries he had left on his plate. “That’s why I want to do it. I don’t need to buy him something. The pig-bastard already has everything anyway.”

“But why come to us for help? Lamar and I aren’t good at this shit,” Franklin explained.

“Man, speak for yourself,” Lamar complained. “Look, crazy-legs, start out with something simple. What poems do you know?”

“Only that fucking stupid roses and violets bullshit,” Trevor answered.

Franklin shook his head. “Worst one. Overdone as fuck.”

“So switch it up,” Lamar suggested. “Roses are red, and here’s something new.” He then held out a hand to Trevor to get him to finish.  

“Violets are violet,” Trevor murmured, thinking for a few seconds before snorting, “not fucking blue.”

Lamar laughed as he gave Trevor a high-five.

Franklin sighed in exasperation. “You ain’t writin’ for a grade-schooler.”

“Oh, but he acts like one sometimes,” Trevor corrected.

“I thought that was great,” Lamar argued. “I may have to use that shit someday.”

Franklin scowled at Lamar before shifting in his chair so that he was facing Trevor. “Go home, dude. Sit down and just write. Don’t even fucking think about it.”

Trevor frowned. “I don’t want him to hate it.”

“He won’t, dog,” Franklin assured. “You dudes have been together for five months. If he hasn’t run away by now, he won’t.”

“True that,” Lamar added. “After all, you must be one scary ass dude to live with.”

“I am,” Trevor confirmed with a smirk.

“He’ll appreciate it, T.” Franklin nodded. “Just go for it.”

\---

“Is this important? Cause I was just heading out the door to meet Solomon and I’m running a bit late.” Michael readjusted the watch on his wrist, waiting for Trevor’s response.

Trevor frowned. “I have something for you.”

Michael became wary. “Oh shit, not another hostage?”

“No, you asshole,” Trevor growled. He reached into his pocket and produced a wrinkled piece of paper.

Michael watched in curiosity as Trevor straightened out the paper on his chest by running both hands over it.

“It’s a poem.” Trevor sounded unsure.

“Really?” Michael was genuinely interested. “Did you write it?”

“Yeah. For you.”

“You gonna read it?”

“Yes, shut up.” Trevor cleared his throat once as he held the wrinkled paper in both hands. “Idiots get eaten, and meth-heads sleep soundly. These words can’t be beaten, I love you Michael Townley.”

Silence.

Trevor immediately went on the defensive. “Look, I know I’m not a fucking wordsmith. And I know your last name isn’t Townley anymore because you’re a prick who fake-died and got a new alias and I couldn’t think of anything that rhymed with De Santa but that’s not the fucking point here.”

“Can I keep that?” Michael asked, ignoring Trevor’s rant.

Trevor blinked. “Yeah. It’s for you, after all.”

Michael grinned. “This was really nice of you, T. Thanks.”

Trevor shrugged. “It was nothing." 

“I’ll return the favor tonight.” Michael’s words held sensual promise as he gave Trevor a lingering kiss before pocketing the poem and rushing out the door.

Trevor texted both Lamar and Franklin soon afterwards. ‘T's getin som 2nit ;)’

‘Dude glad it went well but gross’ Franklin replied.

‘Aw yeah go boss man’ Lamar praised.

Trevor grinned. “Poems are fucking stupid.”  

 

**Michael – Dinner**

“You can’t cook.”

Michael scowled as he tried to cut through, well, whatever abomination it was that he had just taken out of the oven. “Yes I can. The recipe must have been wrong.”

Trevor sighed as he leaned back in the dining room chair. “There you go, blaming everything but yourself.”

“I’m not blaming anything. I can cook and you know it.” 

“What, back in North Yankton? I only ate the shit you concocted because that’s all we fucking had.”

“Bullshit.”

“I can’t lie to you anymore, sugar. You’re liable to burn a salad.”

Michael sat down at the table across from Trevor, glaring at the attempted dinner as though it had offended him. “Fuck this.”

“Mikey.” No response. “Michael.” Slight twitch of the eye. “Look at me, cupcake.” When Michael’s eyes were finally on Trevor he finished, “No matter what, it was nice of you to do this. The effort is appreciated.”

“Effort.” Michael snorted. “Guess I better stick to TV dinners and takeout.”

Trevor chuckled as he got up out of his seat and walked over to Michael, sitting down on his lap. “Don’t fret.” He patted Michael on the cheek. “We can still have a nice evening.”

“I guess,” Michael muttered, watching as Trevor took his phone out of his pocket.

“What do you feel like eating?” Trevor asked.

“Something edible,” Michael sighed.

About a half hour later the two men were sitting next to each other on the couch, watching an old movie as they indulged in Chinese takeout.

After Michael finished his dinner he confessed, “I had made a cake too.”

Trevor smirked. “Is that what that gigantic mass of burnt charcoal was in the trash can?”

“Screw off. I must’ve read the directions wrong.”

“Yeah, Mikey. You must’ve.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this headcanon of Michael being a bad cook. Don’t know where it came from.


	9. Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A drabble for your thoughts.

Their goals conflicted.

Trevor wanted to keep Michael in the game; Michael just wanted to take his family and run.  

Their feelings contrasted.

Trevor looked forward to the job (although Brad had been grating on his nerves a bit) while Michael felt nervous and sick to his stomach.

_“This’ll be a good one. I can feel it.”_

_“Yeah, yeah, me too.”_

_“You seem nervous, Mikey. You okay?”_

_“Never better, friend. Never better.”_

Their future started being transcribed as soon as they stepped foot in the bank.

Then the writing faltered when Trevor killed the security guard that dared to hold a gun to Michael’s head.

The pen stopped completely as the wrong guy was put down and Michael was left yelling at Trevor to go.

Fate didn’t expect to see such a troubling turn of events for that day.

Different goals, understandably, produced different outcomes. One of them had an idea of what would happen and the other would be completely blindsided.

Michael knew he’d still get out; Trevor had no clue he would lose his best friend.  

The aftermath produced dissimilar reasons for regret, though the two hearts ached just the same.

Michael would inadvertently extinguish his hopes; Trevor would try to salvage what was left of his.

They did find common ground at some point in each of their lives in the form of self-destructive behaviors. 

It made the fateful day they found each other again nothing short of volatile.


	10. Scar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One-word prompt (which is the title). I started to write something totally different before it turned into this. I had a lot of fun writing this, too.

It was a cold night accompanied by light rain; the kind of weather that kept people indoors, enjoying a movie or book as they stayed warm with a blanket and a hot beverage.

Michael planned on doing that at first before Solomon called him about their latest film venture.

“It’s been a success so far!” Solomon praised. “Great work, Michael. You should treat yourself!”

So Michael did, making his way to the nearest bar with a grin on his face, unaware of what would take place.

Everything was relatively calm at first. Michael had finished his first drink and was starting on his second before a patron two seats down decided to start randomly talking smack about the entertainment industry.

 _“Everyone’s a critic”_ was the phrase that immediately jumped into Michael’s mind; he shook his head as the man, who was clearly drunk, waved his arms animatedly.

“And how about this crap that just came out?” the drunk continued, talking to the people around him as if they cared. “That stupid movie, what was it, _Criminal Flies_ , _Criminal Ties_?”

“ _Criminal Lies_ ,” Michael automatically corrected.

The man turned to Michael and snorted. “Don’t tell me you watched that shit?”

“I helped produce it, asshole.” Michael was halfway through his second drink, made strong by request, and he was feeling that liquid courage.

“You need to get your brain checked,” the man admonished. “One of the worst movies I’ve seen. Almost as bad as that _Meltdown_ tripe.”

"You wouldn’t know good entertainment if it sat on your fucking face,” Michael goaded.

“How about I sit on your face?” the man countered.

It was a stupid comeback but alcohol had the propensity for making people think everything they said was badass.

The brawl itself didn’t last very long as the bartender was on point and stopped it before it escalated (clearly he had dealt with enough of these situations), although the drunk did manage to cut Michael on his cheek with his gaudy ring.

“Shit,” Michael murmured afterwards, running a finger along the wound and frowning when he felt and saw the blood on his finger. He was a bit surprised that the bartender threw only the irate drunk out.  

“Aaron’s a regular here,” the bartender explained when he noticed Michael’s confused expression. “He gets like that sometimes, usually when something’s happened that’s really pissed him off.”

“In this case, a trip to the movies.” Michael sighed at the ridiculousness of the situation.

The bartender shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I thought the movie was good.”

“Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

Michael returned home after that, not surprised to see Trevor waiting outside for him. He was used to that happening quite a bit as of late.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Trevor asked angrily, arms folded as he leaned against his Bodhi. “I texted your sorry ass like five times.”

Michael checked his phone, seeing all the texts he did indeed receive from his best friend. “Sorry, accidentally left my phone on silent.”

“You and your fucking excuses,” Trevor complained.

“So why are you here?”

“Check the fucking texts.”

Michael read only the first text (‘ _M I need yur dick’_ ) before frowning. “You know, there’s this thing called booty calls.”

“You’re my booty call.” Trevor said it matter-of-fact, as though Michael should already be aware of this and accept it wholeheartedly.

“Listen, I’m not in the mood tonight,” Michael informed, scrubbing his hand over his wounded cheek. “Just want to go to bed.”

“Hold it.” Trevor pointed to Michael’s face. “What happened?”

“Nah, nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

Michael didn’t bother protesting when Trevor walked over and swatted his hand away from his cheek before grabbing his chin to survey the damage.

There was silence for a few seconds; Michael utilized the time to try and come up with a witty or sarcastic remark to get Trevor to back off.

“Who’s responsible?” Trevor’s tone was so low and borderline hostile that Michael’s attempts at trying to formulate a quip were squelched.

“Just some asshole,” Michael flippantly answered. “I was at a bar full of drunks. Something was bound to happen.”

“That’s deep enough to leave a fucking scar.” Trevor ran his coarse thumb near the cut but not over it since he didn’t want to aggravate it more.

“I’m just gonna clean it and leave it be.” Michael pushed Trevor’s hand away. “Really, it’s no big deal.”

“Again, who was it?”

“Some prick complaining about the new movie Solomon and I worked on.”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo, Mikey. Not everyone has to like the stuff you produce.”

“He said _Meltdown_ was shit, too.”

Trevor scowled. “What? I actually liked that stupid movie.”

“Exactly.” Michael shook his head. “Anyway, I might have gotten a bit upset and approached him. We ended up getting into a fight and he cut me with his ring.”

“Did you get a name?”

“Yes. And no, I’m not divulging that information. Why is this such an issue? Bar fights happen all the time.”

“Cause movies are your passion,” Trevor replied.  

Michael shrugged. “Yeah. But it’s like you always tell me, just gotta grow a pair and deal.”

“True, but I also hate when people deface what’s mine.”

“I am not yours.”

“Wanna bet, cowboy?” Trevor smoothly countered. "You just let me deal with this. Go inside and get a good night’s sleep.” He smirked. “You’ll need it.”

“Trevor, don’t,” Michael started, but Trevor was already getting inside of his vehicle. He gave Michael a grin and a mock-salute before backing out of the driveway and taking off down the street.

Michael was too tired to concern himself with it. He figured any texts or phone calls he made to Trevor would be left unanswered anyway.

So he cleaned his wound with hydrogen peroxide and placed a small bandage on it before slipping into bed.

The next morning, Michael woke to a pair of muscular arms encircling his waist. Sighing, he placed his hand over Trevor’s and patted it twice. “Wake up.”

Trevor shifted a bit before letting Michael go and stretching out. “Mornin’, sunshine.”

Michael turned over so that he was facing Trevor. “What happened yesterday?”

Trevor acted nonchalant as he reached over and, with a gentleness that Michael wasn’t expecting, carefully took off his bandage. “Looks better. With any luck the scar won’t remain as one of those blatantly visible fuckers.”

“Trevor,” Michael began again. “What happened?”

“So you and Aaron exchanged some punches last night, huh?” Trevor bore a shit-eating grin as he wadded up the bandage and threw it somewhere behind him.

“You found out who it was?”

“Wasn’t hard. Figured you went to the bar closest to your house. I asked the bartender there about you and he told me everything.”

“Just like that, huh?” Michael narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Trevor frowned. “Well, I did have to threaten to shove a beer bottle or two up his ass. Anyway, he told me where Aaron lived.”

“And you went over there.” Michael definitely didn’t like where this was going.

“Yep.” Trevor examined his fingernails. “And after roughing him up a bit I brought him here.”

“Really?!” Michael shouted so loudly that Trevor winced and slapped him harshly on the arm.

“Yes, really!” Trevor shouted back. Then he lowered his voice as he finished, “He’s downstairs, ready to apologize.”

Michael could not believe this sudden twist. “Trevor, you have got to stop kidnapping people! I want that prick out of my house.”

Trevor waved a finger. “Apology first.”

Michael scrambled out of bed and rushed into the bathroom to clean himself up a bit before putting on a pair of black sweatpants and a white top. “This is ridiculous. The lengths you go to, I fucking swear.”

“Only for you, Mikey,” Trevor pointed out, and he said it with such conviction that Michael definitely believed him. He was about to walk out when Michael stopped him.

“Jesus, T. Put on some fucking pants or something, huh?”

Trevor scowled. “You are such a prude.”

“You need to look presentable for our unwanted guest,” Michael mocked.

“Fucking fine.” Trevor grabbed his sweatpants from the floor and pulled them on. “He’s tied to one of the dining room chairs.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Now Michael really regretted going to the bar last night.  

As Trevor said, Aaron sat in the dining room, tied with rope to a chair. He sported some cuts as well as a busted lip. 

When Michael walked in, Aaron scowled. “Retribution isn’t an even playing field for you, is it?”

Michael raised his hands in defense. "Hey, I had nothing to do with this."

"You are such an asshole," Aaron retorted. 

“Hey!” Trevor barked as he sauntered in, making Aaron freeze in fear. “No name calling, compadre.”

“Enough of this," Michael complained as he walked over to undo the ropes.

“Your friend is a fucking psycho!” Aaron hissed to Michael in the hopes that Trevor wouldn’t hear.

“I know,” Michael muttered. “Trust me.”

“So what do we say, Aaron?” Trevor asked mockingly as he folded his arms across his bare chest.

“I’m really sorry, man,” Aaron told Michael as dramatically and sincerely as he could so that Trevor would be satisfied.

“It’s fine,” Michael assured as he undid the last of the ropes. “After all, I was in the wrong too.” He bit his lower lip before asking, “Just, can you tell me why you didn’t like it?”

“Oh, he did like it.” Trevor’s grin was malicious. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes!” Aaron quickly responded. “I-I even told all my friends to go check it out and I rated it highly on MovieReviews.com. Seriously, one of the best movies ever!”

Michael frowned. “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

“I was drunk and not in my right state of mind!” Aaron seemed like he was going to have a nervous breakdown. “I wasn’t even thinking of the right movie!”

“What movie were you thinking of?” Michael asked curiously.

“I-I don’t even know!” Aaron floundered. “Fuck, I watch so many movies that they all start to blur together.”

“He said _Meltdown_ was a work of art, too,” Trevor informed, still portraying the definition of manipulative.

“Yes, for sure!” Aaron stood up and extended a hand to Michael. “Seriously, I’m sorry about what happened. Keep doing what you’re doing, man!”  

Michael took Aaron’s hand, wincing a little at the strong, frenzied grip. “Uh, will do.”

Trevor clapped his hands together. “Alright, time for you to go.” He walked over to Aaron, grabbing him by his collar.

“Easy, man,” Aaron nervously requested. “I’m good, I’m good.”

“You taking him home?” Michael inquired, feeling slightly apprehensive.

“Something like that.” Trevor grinned. “Don’t you worry about it, Mikey. You need to hurry up and get started on your next movie. Aaron may _die_ from anticipation otherwise.”

Michael swore he could hear Aaron on the verge of crying as Trevor led him out the front door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my headcanon is that Trevor goes to ridiculous lengths for Michael and Michael only. I figure if he doesn’t kill Michael over all the things he’d kill or seriously hurt other people for, then that also means he’ll go above and beyond when anybody slights Michael.


	11. Wedding Woes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Nothing cute and fluffy to be found here. 
> 
> Cross-posted to my Tumblr.
> 
> Prompt: http://lostindaydreams-gemz.tumblr.com/post/113505508811/hurt-comfort-prompts (#3 on the list).

“I know I’m supposed to be your best man, but maybe I should mention now that I’m in love with you.”

It had sounded great in his head. However, when verbalized, it sounded like the stupidest fucking phrase in existence.

He knew he should have looked away then to spare his sanity.

Michael didn’t mean to stare blankly at Trevor for so long; it just sort of happened. Eventually he laughed and replied, “Good one, T.”

Trevor felt like somebody had reached in, grabbed his heart, and squeezed.

There was only one other time that he had felt this way: when he first kissed Michael. That, too, had been a disaster.

Honestly, Trevor didn’t know why he expected this time to be any different.

“Just thought I’d give you a bit of humor on your big day.” Trevor’s smile was fake; plastered.

Michael was too embarrassed for his friend to notice. “Well, humor isn’t really what I need right now.”

A miracle. At least, that’s what Trevor figured Michael needed. Or was he thinking that about himself?

 _“Do you even love her?”_ Trevor had asked when Michael broke the news.

 _“I do,”_ Michael assured.

Trevor knew he was full of shit. Still, when Michael asked him to be his best man, Trevor couldn’t say no.

He didn’t know why he subjected himself to this kind of torture. This wasn’t his big day; this wasn’t his time to shine. This was just a “slap in the face” reminder that the person he loved could never love him back.

He bit his tongue. He tried to wall off his heart. He tried to push his feelings aside.

The only reason he agreed to be Michael’s best man was so that he could pretend.

Pretend it was them.

When the pastor turned to Amanda, Trevor mentally drowned out her name with his own. And when the pastor spoke those numbing words, Trevor mouthed, “I do.”

During Michael’s turn Trevor didn’t even bother substituting words and names; after all, Michael would never say “I do” to him.

Trevor hated that he had become so dependent on another human being. He hated the fact that this wedding sickened him but he still showed up because of Michael.

Yet if Trevor were to ask something of Michael (in this case to ditch the wedding), Michael would say no. In fact, he’d probably laugh it off and call him crazy, much like he did the day Trevor threw caution to the wind and kissed him.

Trevor refused to look at the exchanging of rings. His stomach dropped when the pastor told Michael he may “Kiss the bride.”

Trevor wanted to reach out, grab Michael, and never let go.

Michael was supposed to be his.

The only comfort Trevor found that night came in the form of his own hand, as he thought about Michael and how good he looked in that tux, and the bottles of booze kept nestled at his side as he stared up at a peeling ceiling in a shitty hotel room.

He yelled and he laughed and he cried. He went on about his shitty life, still fully expecting a certain someone to share in the self-depreciation.

Except Michael wasn’t there, and he wouldn’t be anymore. 


	12. Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the absence; been busy with life and honestly the creative juices haven’t been flowing lately. Gonna try my best, though. I've missed writing for these two. 
> 
> Also a huge 'thank you' to everyone that has commented, bookmarked, and left kudos. It is greatly appreciated. =)

_“Why hurt someone whose only intention was to love you?”_

**First Kiss**

It was in North Yankton, right before a heist.

He took a risk and instantly regretted it.

Michael had this look on his face that was a mixture of shock and confusion. There might’ve been disgust, too, but Trevor refused to analyze his expression any further.

The silence was deafening.

“Sorry.”

“Trevor.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you get the ammo?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Alright.”

Trevor watched Michael walk off without another word. He felt like someone had punched him in the gut.  

 

**First Time**

“Did you see the look on that prick’s face when I said I was gonna rip out his kidneys?” a drunken Trevor asked as he pressed himself up against Michael’s naked body.

Michael used his fingernail to chip away at some paint that was peeling on the inside of the truck bed. “Yep. Nearly pissed his pants.”

There was that silence again.

“So we goin’ to a motel?” Trevor finally asked. “I want to fuck properly. Kinda regret our first time being in a truck.”

“You were the one who couldn’t wait.” Michael almost sounded accusatory.

Trevor’s stomach sank a little. “You pissed? We can do something else.”

Michael slowly shook his head. “I’m still buzzed and slightly horny. Motel room will do.”

Something in the back of Trevor’s mind screamed that he was being used.

But this was Michael; _his_ Michael.

Surely everything would work itself out.

 

**First Hurt**

“This can’t happen anymore.” Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed, running a hand over his face.

Trevor glared at his naked back. “You callin’ the shots now? Who the fuck put you in charge?”

“It’s wrong.” Michael looked around at the seedy motel room they had landed themselves in for that night (after, of course, having a few at the bar down the street).  

“Then why let it get to this point?” Trevor accused. “Cause, you know, we’ve reached double-digit numbers now as far as fucks go.”

Michael sighed. “It’s time for us to reclaim our pride.”

“What the fuck does pride have to do with anything?” Trevor growled. Then realization hit. “Are you…are you _ashamed_ to be with me?”

Michael winced, grateful that his back was to Trevor. “We can do better than this.”

“Better than what!?”

“Rough sex, angry sex, drunken sex in the back of fucking pickup trucks.”

“I loved every second.” Trevor’s voice was rough with emotion. “I don’t care where or how we fuck so long as it’s you I’m fucking.” 

There was silence; pure, unadulterated silence.

Michael braced himself for whatever came next.

“That hurts, Michael. It really fucking hurts.” Trevor’s voice was now frail.

Michael didn’t even have it in him to apologize.

 

**First Confession**

“Love you, Mikey.”

The silence was a joke at this point, mocking Trevor, making him feel like a fool.

Michael was the first to break it this time.

“Good one, T.”

“You fucking idiot. I mean that.”

“I’m an awful person.”

“So am I, cupcake. That’s why we go together so damn well.”

Michael shook his head slowly. He started gathering up his clothing.

Trevor frowned. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren't you gonna acknowledge what I said?”

“I did.”

“You thought I was joking.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“For your sake you’d better start hating me again.”

Trevor watched Michael walk into the bathroom. Once he heard the shower running, he dug his nails into his thighs until they bled.

_"I never hated you to begin with."_

 

**Last Kiss**

Michael stared at Trevor leaning against his truck, chugging beer as if it was in limited supply.

He knew the storm was coming; he knew this would all be over soon.

With assured steps Michael walked over, cupped Trevor’s cheek in one hand and planted a heated kiss on his lips.

Trevor nearly stumbled over, surprised by the sudden display of affection. When he attempted to renew the kiss after Michael pulled away, however, he was met with resistance.

“No, T,” Michael nearly whispered. “That’s just something I needed to do.”

Trevor stood dumbfounded as Michael got into his own car and left without another word.

 

**Last Time**

“You barely looked at me.” Trevor had his arms folded against his bare chest, fixing Michael with a glare. “Am I deplorable to you, now?”

“Trevor,” Michael began, but no other words came out.

“Let me guess: you had to get it out of your system?” Trevor accused.

“I’m going to be moving soon.” Michael was quick to change the subject. “I’m not telling anyone where.”

“What a grand plan, Mr. Retirement.”

“I mean it.”

“I can easily track you down.”

“I know you can.” Michael gave Trevor an almost pleading look. “So I’m asking you not to.”

Trevor’s chest tightened. “Whatever, Michael. You’re full of shit.”

“I know.” 

Trevor let his hands splay out over his thighs under the covers, feeling the marks and scars. “I hate you.”

Michael smiled sadly. “I wish you really did.”

 

**Last Hurt**

“It sucks to know that you don’t understand how much you mean to me, you precious ass.” Trevor slammed a fist against his truck. “I don’t know what the fuck else to do.”

“How about nothing?” Michael supplied.

“I can’t do nothing!” Trevor argued. “I’m not about to let my best friend just walk away without a fucking care in the world. You’ve got ties here; you’ve got history with me!”

“Your best friend is gone, Trevor. His soul was snuffed out back in North Yankton and his worthless carcass is rotting in San Andreas.” Michael could feel a pain in his chest. “I’ve got to move on. I want to be able to die in peace.”

Trevor felt it again; that punch to the gut. That same feeling he got when Michael treated their first kiss indifferently, their first fuck as an annoyance, and Trevor’s declaration of love as a joke.

“You selfish, self-centered bastard,” Trevor spat. “You don’t give a fucking damn about anybody but yourself.”

“You’re right. You’ve had me pegged since the fucking beginning.” Michael gave him a sideways glance. “So why are you still here?”

Trevor wanted to kill this man. He wanted to throw him to the ground, wrap his roughened hands around that fat throat, and choke till there was nothing left.

Except something was holding him back.

It was the fact that, during the whole time he knew Michael, the sorry bastard made him feel alive for one reason or another.

Even during the times that Michael crushed his heart or bled his emotions dry at least he was feeling _something_ ; Trevor preferred that over nothing any day. 

“So that’s it.” Trevor sounded passive. “This is goodbye.”

“This is goodbye,” Michael repeated.

They didn’t speak another word after that, instead choosing to stare out over the horizon as the sun slowly set.

After a few minutes Trevor got into his vehicle and drove off, leaving Michael alone with his thoughts and inhibitions.

He couldn’t bring himself to tell Trevor that, on some level, he loved him too.

It’s just, for Michael, silence always sounded better. 

 

**Last Confession**

“I’m scared.” Michael took in a steady breath. “I’m a grown ass man that can’t handle my problems so I’m running from them instead. I can’t even manage to fall in love properly because of my own fucking insecurities.”

“Sir.” The receptionist looked severely embarrassed. “I don’t need you to tell me why you’re moving here. The lease just needs to be signed.”

“Sorry, that just slipped out.” It was Michael’s turn to be embarrassed. “I swear I’m not crazy. Forgot I said anything.”

The girl chuckled nervously, still keeping a hand near the phone in case the cops needed to intervene at any point.

As soon as pen met paper Michael felt like he wanted to break down.

He hadn’t talked this candidly about his fears to anybody, and yet the person he finally confessed to was some random apartment receptionist who didn’t know him from Adam.

The person he should have shared his fears with was hundreds of miles away now; the person that, after some time, Michael grew to care for so much that it unnerved him.

The person that he purposely pushed away because he was in so much hate with himself that he felt he didn’t deserve anything.

_“You love him too, you sorry bastard. And you know it.”_

Michael decided, after handing the papers back over to the cautious receptionist, that he needed to find himself a therapist and fast.

 

**Reminiscing**

“I think your life is better now without that kind of emotional baggage weighing you down, Trevor.”

Trevor scowled, shoving his empty beer bottle into Ron’s chest. “Get me another.” After Ron returned from his little task Trevor added, “And don’t be so fucking stupid.”

Ron nodded. “S-sorry, boss.”

“Let me tell you something, _Ronald_ ,” Trevor nearly mocked as he leaned forward and folded his arms across the wooden beams that acted as his front porch, beer clutched tightly in one hand. “When you love your best friend, you love your best friend. That’s just how it is. They can be the shittiest human being on the face of the earth and yet still seem like a fucking angel.”

“Is that what Michael was to you?” Ron questioned.

“Yep. He was a terrible fucking person.” Trevor frowned. “But I loved him for it.”

Silence loomed over them for a few seconds.

Trevor hated silence. It reminded him of the times he’d try to get answers or reactions out of Michael but would be met with nothing.

Nothing…he hated that, too.

At least his thighs had somewhat healed.  

“I just don’t understand why you won’t track him down.”

“Cause he asked me not to.” Trevor didn’t sound bitter or angry; he just sounded tired.

“That’s actually pretty noble of you, boss,” Ron praised.

Trevor took a swig of his beer. “Get the fuck out of here, Ron.”

“You got it.” Ron hurried back to his own trailer.

Trevor let out a frustrated sigh, looking up towards the night sky.

_“Hope you get that peaceful death you want so badly, you sorry fuck.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, it's been months since my last update and then I return with this? Apologies - sometimes I get carried away with writing sad, painful things. After all, as much as I love this pairing, they definitely have their fair share of problems and issues. Makes for interesting (and dare I say fun) writing material. 
> 
> I do want to write something a bit more lighthearted/less angsty soon. Will see how that goes; hopefully it won't whiplash into another one of these (seriously, you may not believe me, but this started out as a fluff fic...ugh).


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